We Will Endure
by Vesta Nyx
Summary: We Will Endure are the words of House Orrick, one of the oldest great houses of Innistrad. they have once been believed to have died out thousands of years ago due to tragedy and betrayal; yet through the discovery of lost letters we piece together the fractured past, as once generation hopes to reunite with the ones left behind.


_Prologue_

 _"_ _Form over the horizon of the wild seas came sails trimmed in blue and black. ablaze in the light of the moon in all her glory, in awe and wonder did the eyes of the native son's gaze upon the black soaked wood of hardened ships set upon the bay; with banners in the wind unfamiliar to them. As the waves crashed upon the sliver soaked sands, leather boots encased in black armor sunk into the wet deposits along the coast. It was almost like fate, the resurgence of magic flowing through the leylines set within the earth, pulsed through his feet and through his body. The Ether was strong as was the tide, the flow of magic as powerful as the force of the moon, where the coast was onyx, here it shone like white gold. In the distance he could smell the mountain air just beyond the fog that begun to sink in._

 _the soil was ripe for planting."_

 _She was encircled by a group of small children eyes large and glowing with different colors, skin mixed between shades of copper, spring soil and sand. Yet strong was the trait of stark black hair be it curly or straight. As their gazes fixated on the story teller, a mature woman, where the black of her hair was strong; even with the streaks of white and silver creeping form the roots of her head. Her eyes, like, those of the children around her glowed with the intensity of the lineage they hailed from. Her gaze was a pure, pale blue distant and clear as the waters of the rivers that flowed through their lands. And much like the children, she had skin with the hue of the strong willow trees of which the moorlands were known for. Once a year during the long season of winter the grand hall of the Orrick name filled the rooms with those of their kin, fresh generations of Orrick saplings filling the air with laughter and family. It never crossed her mind how large her family would become, or how wide her roots and branches could reach. As she looked towards the pages of the tomes of stories she continued to read the stories of their founder; Marcus of the Black Sands. As she spoke each word she could tele the images were building in their small minds giving life to the words she spoke. Once again she looked to see the smiling and awe filled faces of her then grandchildren only to see an empty and fireless hall. The stone walls cracked with neglect and eons of time. The silk of spider webs colonized every inch of what wasn't dust and ash. Windows with broken and forgotten stained glass scatted across the once kept hall, yet in her hands she still held the tome which kept her bloodline alive. The pages that weren't cracked and unkempt were torn from the binding and scatter upon the ground, fused to the stone floor or either lost to time. Her breath was visible with each shaky breath she took as she rose from her seat, taking in the desolation. This wasn't her reality. She was in the realm of the forgotten. The mirror world of the dead to the world of the living. The winter looking glass to what was her living present. She had happened upon this realm many times before, in ages of dire need and years shrouded with death; so much that this had become a second home in a more or less chilling way. She left the book behind and wandered about the shell of her former home now seeing the smoky shades of the people that used to live there with featureless faces and figures. Her pale eyes were cold and distant as she continued on her way through the winding halls and decayed archways; until she looked to see the gardens she once loved, brush and foliage black and glimmered as volcanic ice, brilliant in the insipid white sun. their enduring beauty astonished her, the roses in full bloom amazed her lilies, moon flowers untouched by time as if they were cared and catered to. However, as her eyes looked towards the sky, the swaying branches of the willow tree danced in the wind of the living. Its leaves in full color of their deep green and healthy leaves its bark deep and rich, hardy and un yielding. Though she didn't know it, tears streamed down her face staining her brown skin as with shaky hands reached to touch the bark, emitting warm waves from the other side. No sooner did she touch the tree did her eyes open to the hazy image of a smoldering fireplace, in the comforts of a small salon. Her body ached with the lack of movement._

 _'_ _how long was I there?'_

 _As she joints locked and unlocked the blood in her body the snow of winter was heavy upon the window, beyond the black and barren trees rolling in the hills of the black forest she recalled to be her home. Everything slept in winter, melding and consumed by snow and ice with the tree as chalky black streaks along an otherwise empty canvas. Beyond her cottage was the barren no man's land that rested between her and the Blood Sworn of Kitra. She had called this place home, the place of her birth. She never imagined that she would cross the sea to return to black sands and long winters. But the tree was alive. She saw it in color, it was warm, it was breathing_ _ **It Was Alive**_ _and like her, it had endured._

The Willow of Winter

The overcast was unrelenting, consuming the sky with the constant snow raining from the heavens. Form the comfort of her cottage Yevette gazed to the vastness of the Black Forest, hidden by the few trees she could see in the distance. Although she loved to gaze upon the ever green trees and ebony sequoia, she hated the smell of pine. And as a knock form the front door reached her ears, she prepared herself for the home to smell like it.

'M' Lady' an arid unnatural voice whispered though skeletal teeth as a wraith lost of its skin and flesh, walked into the salon with a visitor fallowing behind her. The sockets of her eyes, and nose glowed form the blue flamed that burned in her chest. Her bones black as tar with the only semblance of humanity being the icy white hair pulled into a tight bun. Her skeleton was dressed in the attire of a long white gown, draped over with a maid's high collared black coat. Along with her eyes, glowed the gems that decorated her hair, though simple in beauty the power they held was beyond comprehension. Untrained eyes would see it simply as a funeral keep sake, but to the trained eyes that knew better, it was a tool of a sacred, and dark art.

"a visitor from the Crimson Keep, a Red Owl."

Jointed flanges unfolded gracefully as the ebony bones waved in a tall man dressed from head to toe in black furs and leather. Though he had been inside for a while the snow was still heavy upon his shoulders. Blanketing the hat, he wore upon his head to protect his sight. Yevette had motioned for the wraith to remove his coat but was politely, albeit sternly refused.

"you came all this way the least you can do I remove your coat."

"maybe next time." Through his covered mouth, she could hear his thick northern accent well enough to not push the matter further, feeling the fire stoked behind his words.

"well then, I will not keep you." She could never shake the uneasy feeling she felt around a red owl. A fire, just unnatural as the flames she stoked herself, burning red as dragon's fire deep from the mountains beyond her reach, beyond the sea of trees a snow where once red owls nested in the smoldering trees cleared by the great winged beast of mythology, the companion of the goddess Kitra. Much like the bird of their name sake he was a tall man of lean build disguised by the heavy cloak and furs to keep the snow at bay. Hair much like the wraiths hair, his own was white as the snow yet his eyes, blood shot and surrounded by flames, beady and always watching. Fast hands and silent approach made the Knights of the Red Owl, more suited for tasks of delicate, and rather nasty of nature. Not once in her lifetime did she ever know one to simply blink let alone start a conversation. A visit from such a man could mean only two things, death by his hand or worse, a summons to the Crimson Keep. She knew better than to look to his eyes for answer and instead examined his cloak and clothes better suited for travel, than assassination.

"you cannot be harmed by fire Lady Orrick the Red Owl knows this."

"do forgive me, I have never been a trusting woman of face value. I'm sure you have now come to understand why." Yevette was a woman mature in stature and build. Her layered and busted dress hugged the ample curves of her body pulling and caving to where a buxom figured could be made out. Even as she wrapped her tartan about her arms it did nothing to deemphasize the girth of her chest pronounced in her fitted shirt. She wore her hair wild and loose say for the top half of her hair that was still blooming with the black of her youth remained in a bun fastened together by a hair pin decorated with a black gem; the telltale of a widow in mourning. Her skin was still fresh and warm with the glow of youth giving only the subtle hints of aging. She was a woman in her prime to say the least with the telling of her age, dead set in her now ice blue eyes, sharp and unforgiving as the winter they found themselves in. her soft lips pulled into a kind smile as she returned to her watch over the forest as it slumbered through the passing day.

"you have letters from the lady of the Crimson Keep."

"letters?"

"aye, within each fort night a new one was sent to me on route." His heavily gloved hands, revealed a bundle of black envelops with seals pressed in white wax with the seal of her dormant house. Her greedy hands snatched it away from his grasp. The scent of the ocean was all over the silk wrapped around them. Of the pine she knew all too well, of the rivers that she used to call her own, but more importantly, the faint scent of blood lingered. No the blood of her native people bitter sweet and dry, this blood was heavy with nectar the blood home stock prey. As Yevette collected herself she looked to the red owl as his vacant eyes now seemed to smile in a devious tint; even as his face remained unmoved. Without another word he simply tipped his hat and left the salon, and not a moment after exited the cottage altogether; with his heavy boots still echoing through the falling snow. Even as the sun began to set into the darkness, the overcast did not yield. There was no fire in the skies with the passing of the sun only the dimming of one pale light for another. As she stood in the bitter darkness of the salon, she continued to look out her window, clutching the letters in her hands. Everything seemed so much clear in the night, the moon full in her womb glowed even brighter than the sun shining through the heavy ever greens of the black forest, a rainbow of pastel light haloing through each flake of snow and hanging ice. She wanted to remain in this present, however long it took she wanted to hold on a while longer, knowing that if the flames stoked again, it would glare the window and diminish the light that was already flooding the room. As gentle footsteps stopped at the threshold, the gentle breeze of a ghastly voice danced over her ears.

"do you want me to start the fire M' Lady?"

Such a simple question weighed so heavily now. Knowing that once the flames peaked Yevette would have to return to that dreadfully pleasant time. Within another word spoken the wraith walked over to the fireplace, knelt down and simply hovered her hand over the pit. As she removed her glove blue flamed danced around her skeletal hand as with blue embers landed on the dry logs, igniting the fireplace and blooming brightly within the room. The glare was too intense to keep the curtain open. Reluctantly, she had to close them and sit upon her favorite chair. Slowly she began to unravel the silk packaging upon the letters, and peeled back the white seal; leaving her current reality behind and instead immersing herself in the dark world she left behind, to the dark realm of Innistrad.


End file.
